


Under Your Skin the Moon is Alive

by queerwatson



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerwatson/pseuds/queerwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anyone that knew her could tell you that Jane Watson never backed down from a dare or a challenge. And Sherlock Holmes is a walking, living breathing challenge - even if sometimes her habits in clothing are a little too challenging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Your Skin the Moon is Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Edit (2015): With this being such an old fic now, I feel the need to preface it with the fact that this fic doesn't seem fully representative of how I view these characters anymore, and I don't think that if I wrote it now I would write any of it the same way. I do hope you enjoy it anyways, but since it's so distant from my own current perception, I wanted to put this disclaimer here.

Anyone that knew her could tell you that Jane Watson never backed down from a dare or a challenge. Between having Harry as an older brother, and being a scholarship student and then a young, “adorable” woman in the army, she learned to be confident in proving how unafraid and unintimidated she was. Of course, this meant she’d done some pretty ridiculous things in her life - climbing high trees and dislocating shoulders, staying nights in abandoned places.

By far, however, the most ridiculous challenge she’d ever stared down was Sherlock Holmes. The woman was mad, strange, and too brilliant for her own good. Every lift of an eyebrow was another sarcastic remark on the fact that Jane had never really managed to tell her no - because she was a walking, breathing, living dare. And God, was it fantastic.

Of course, sometimes, there were things even Jane questioned, but she’d learned to put up with all of them. Body parts near the food, texting murderers - all came with the job description. With a put-upon sigh, she worked them into her schedule.

The one thing she just couldn’t seem to get used to was her flatmate’s lack of modesty - well, it wasn’t even that. Jane had obviously seen her fair share of nudity. Between being a doctor and being in the army, there was no way to avoid it. The problem, though... The problem was that Sherlock was never completely naked. She was just a little exposed. Just exposed enough for it to seem like a challenge.

Jane would go down every morning, and see one of a few sights. The most common, and the most difficult to deal with before she’d even had a bloody cup of tea was Sherlock, in just her dressing gown, leaning over her microscope. Jane could see the entire length of her long, gorgeous legs - unshaven, of course, because Sherlock had no concept of why she ought to shave, but that certainly never put Jane off. The curve of her neck, accented by soft escaped curls tumbling out of the bun on the top of her head. Her well-defined collarbone, her sternum, nearly the start of her ribs, and just the slightest soft curve of one breast, in the gap of the dressing gown... And nothing else. No sign of her stomach, her nipples, her hips.

Sometimes Sherlock was playing the violin, and was slightly less exposed, but even more beautiful.

Frankly, Jane wasn’t going to be able to keep going like this.

The problem was, Sherlock wasn’t interested. Or at least, that was what she’s said ages ago when they’d first met. It wasn’t just that, though - she really hadn’t shown any indication. Not like Jane, who’d made an idiot out of herself just because she wasn’t ashamed of being openly bisexual and thought she’d make a move.

Sure, Sherlock hated all her boyfriends - easier to find than girlfriends, really - but Sherlock hated nearly every man she met, so that made sense.

There’d be a look in her eyes, sometimes. A moment. But it was always gone as soon as it came. Jane learned to ignore it.

All this had led to the current situation. Sherlock running around close enough to naked to leave Jane more frustrated than she’d ever been, and Jane, for once in her life, absolutely refusing to take the dare. Instead, she’d broken her favorite vibrator, she’d used it so often - but that wasn’t the point.

The point was that things stayed this way, until the morning Jane snapped. It was a day she had off from the surgery, and she’d planned to run a few errands. She’d psyched herself up, and then headed downstairs, ready for the sight of Sherlock leaning over her microscope.

Except she wasn’t there. And she wasn’t playing her violin. Instead, she was on her hands and knees on the floor of the sitting room, like she was looking for something, and... Jane could see everything. Not at first, not right as she walked in - though she did find out that Sherlock didn’t even wear any pants under her dressing gown - for Christ’s sake, how was it even possible to have an arse like that? Once she’d stepped closer, though, she could she that both of Sherlock’s tits were completely visible at this angle - they were small enough that with the dressing gown hanging low in front of her, there really was enough room to see... everything.

Jane froze, then, still staring, and could feel herself blush. This wasn’t just any naked woman. This was Sherlock, and she was just as gorgeous as Jane had always thought she’d be.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she muttered, sounding just a little bit pathetic.

Sherlock turned her head, looking over her shoulder, and raised an eyebrow.

Oh, God. “You... you actually have been doing it on purpose. You’ve actually been going around just naked enough that I’d pay attention on purpose?”

She wasn’t sure why she asked, when she knew the answer. Sherlock knew she liked a challenge, and knew she was bisexual. She simply raised her other eyebrow to match the first.

“What... do you... Do you want me to move out?”

For it moment, it seemed like Jane had left Sherlock speechless. Her eyes had widened, her brow had furrowed, and she stood up and turned around properly to give Jane a look of pure disbelief. “For someone so comparatively interesting, you can be incredibly dull and obtuse.”

Though Jane thought of protesting, she was immediately paying more attention to what Sherlock was doing as she stepped forward and fisted her hand in Jane’s over-sized sleep shirt, and then pulled her into a kiss.

A real, proper, absolutely bloody fantastic kiss. How did she even - oh, to hell with it. Jane slid her hands under Sherlock’s dressing gown, wrapping them around her bare waist as she kissed back with everything she had. She pulled Sherlock’s upper lip in between her own and nipped at it, then slid her tongue over the perfect dip of Sherlock’s Cupid’s bow. Their tongues curled around each other easily, stroking and tasting. Neither of them pulled away until their lips were reddened and just a little bit swollen.

Even when they did pull back, Sherlock’s nose still brushed her cheek, and they were very much breathing each other’s air. “How did-”

“I’ve never done anything I would consider intercourse, but I did welcome one girl’s romantic advances in Uni, for the purposes of gaining knowledge on the subject. I grew bored with her before we got very far. You were also going to ask how long I’ve been planning this - since the case with the Chinese smuggling ring, when I failed to convince you I would have genuinely preferred you dating me to you dating that idiot man who couldn’t even think well enough to knock over his chair to avoid his own death. Is that all?”

Chuckling, Jane pressed another slow, gentle kiss to Sherlock’s lips, and then pulled back a little to brush their noses against each other. “Yeah, that’s all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Right. So basically this is just an ode to how gay I am for femlock - it was supposed to be smutty, and then it even fluffed out on me at the end. Maybe I'll write a smutty sequel? Or maybe I'll just write a lot more femlock, and some of it will be smut. It's undetermined as of yet. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it - and yes, the title is a Neruda reference.


End file.
